To Another Us
by lilAzIaNpride24
Summary: Because the only words that raced through his head tonight over and over and over again were Sara's. "To another us."


**Hey guys! I'm back with another White Collar fic. So, this fic really got away from me. This was half way done and on my hard drive, so I decided to finish it. I don't even remember where I was going with this. It was ****_supposed_**** to be a multi-chapter fic, but I totally forgot what the idea was that sparked this.**

**But, I hope you enjoy~ **

**P.S: One of the concepts for this fic was taken from another ****_White Collar_**** fic of mine, "Half A World Away".**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_White Collar_**** nor any of the characters.**

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His mind raced with images of the past. Kate. Alex. Sara. Rebecca.

His loosened tie, disheveled hair, and wrinkled dress shirt distorted his regular confident image. Right now, he was stressed as hell.

Neal Caffrey always prided himself on being the conman and never the con, but the events of the past couple of days proved different.

Raking his hand through his hair, he let out a sigh of frustration. He really thought he'd found someone worthwhile. After Sara left to London, he was in shambles.

Peter's incarceration left him busy to find a way to get Peter out of jail, so during the day when he was thinking of a way to free Peter _legally _or checking up on Elizabeth, he didn't give Sara a second thought. It was when night fell and Neal was left all to his lonesome that he started to reminisce about Sara. He'd lie in bed or lean against the balcony as the occasional memory brought smiles to his face and all his worries would go away, at least for a moment.

Then he'd met Rebecca. At first, he was just using her to get information, but then they got closer and he felt that this was his second chance at a decent romance, but he was wrong. Completely and utterly off target.

To make it even worse, he felt as if he was in the first stages of falling in love with "Rebecca", he thought that they could have a life together and then he found out that she wasn't Rebecca at all. She was Rachel Turner, rogue MI-5 agent and murderer.

God, he sucked at picking women.

(Oh, the irony in that statement).

Alex, Rebecca, and even Kate used him just to get what they wanted. Sure, Rebecca fell in love with him along the way, but it didn't change the fact that she still used him.

Kate was a different story. They both fell in love with each other. He had taught her how to con and they spent their free time imagining their lives rich, isolated, and in love. Then she used him to get the music box. Sure, she was forced, but she'd had another plan. She _always_ had a plan.

Alex was more of a fling than a real girlfriend; an acquaintance of sorts. Neal really did like her, but they were con artists. Survival of the fittest, right?

Sara was the only woman who knew him and accepted him for who he is, flaws and all. She was the only one that didn't use him, but he did use her. He used her to get information on Kate, but she accepted it and helped him find Kate. She helped him find the closure that she too desperately searched for. And that's when they got together.

The Bounty Hunter & The Con Man.

It was irony at its best, but they still managed to work. Even after his island adventure and getting together with another woman, she forgave him and they became _amis amants _– friends who have fun. They were keeping things casual, but not really. Lingering feelings were still hidden beneath all the persistent denial and he just wanted to have another go at a _real _relationship. That meant no secrets. And he was more than willing to do that. He was getting tired of all the distractions and misdirects and secrecy.

But it wasn't that simple.

With Neal, came complications. And they were beyond complicated.

But despite all that, he made the fake proposal _real_ and he wished more than anything it was. When he sent her off, it was the most difficult thing he ever had to do.

Now, he sits against the foot of the bed nursing a glass of scotch on the rocks. He was never one for hard liquor – he was obviously the wine type – but today was an exception.

Why you ask?

Because the only words that raced through his head tonight over and over and over again were Sara's.

_"To another us."_

When she had said those words, they were like daggers to his heart. He tried to play it cool and act as if he wasn't hurt by her words, but he was. And incredibly so.

It was like she was saying she wished he wasn't him. That the thing that attracted him most to Sara – the fact that she expected him for he was – was a lie.

_So, this was what it felt like to be the one lied to._

He gave an empty scoff at that. So why they said about your past biting you in ass was true.

_How inconvenient. _

He took another sip and contemplated on the word _real_.

For all his life he hated that word. Because it was a part of _real_ity. And he hated reality.

He had wanted to desperately believe that he could change reality, that happy-ever-afters really did exist. And Sara said it best – like she did with everything. _He lived in the clouds. _

He had done everything to make sure that he had gotten everything he wanted in life. And he became a criminal to do it.

He'd walked down that path for fifteen years – since he was eighteen – only to end up with nothing. No family. No friends. (Well, there was Mozzie. And Peter. And Elizabeth. And June.) No love.

This was _not_ the life he had meant to live.

Maybe what Sara said was right. Maybe if he weren't him, things wouldn't be so complicated. Maybe he would be an artist preparing for an art show. Maybe Peter would be a pitcher in the Majors. Maybe Sara would be a cellist like she dreamed. Maybe he would have been in the audience entranced by her performance. Maybe they would've gotten a dog. And had kids. And a beautiful house. Who knows what Mozzie would've become?

He lets out a sigh and chews on ice. He flinches at the sudden cold that it brings.

Wherever she is in London, he hopes her the best because she deserves it. She deserves more than him. And suddenly he wonders what she's doing. He wonders if she had found someone else. He wouldn't blame her. In fact he'd done exactly that when he had fled to Cape Verde.

He lifts his glass and whispers, "To another us."

But he doesn't fully mean it. Because more than anything, he wants _them_.

Despite all that, he doesn't chase her. Instead, he waits for her postcard.

And when that first one comes, he'll be counting down the days until his release.

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**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated!**

**A/N: I am in the process of writing a new multi-chapter fic for ****_White Collar_**** for which I've had an idea for a veryyyy long time. Also, an ****_NCIS: LA _****fic is in the works as well. :) Stay tuned~**

**A/N: To the guest that reviewed: It is finished... O_o**


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